Typical Day
Lynda Linguist starts her day with an early morning jog along the private sandy path on FDR drive just past the UN building. She listens to her favorite female chanteuse Amelie les Crayons and tries to clear her head before the start of her busy day.
After a forty-five-minute run, she feels energized and ready to sit tight for the next grueling, week-long conference that starts this afternoon. Lynda loves her job as an interpreter at the UN. Per UN policy, Lynda and her teammate, Franco Phile, take twenty-minute turns interpreting in real-time everything that's spoken in English and Chinese into French for the Prime Minister, Manuel Valls, who she really enjoyed working with. He said something the other day that had Lynda in stitches, though she can't remember what. It's probably because she's nervous.
And when customs asked me why I had so many snails in my luggage, I told them to escargot away. (Source)
Even though she had her run, it's hard to be relaxed when an entire nation is counting on her to not screw up her job. Phil handles these big conferences much better than Lynda, but then again, he has ten more years of experience than her and French is his native tongue; it's only one of Lynda's second languages.
Normally, they would have a native French speaker interpreting for the PM; however, the fact that Lynda's also fluent in Cantonese makes her more valuable and gives her a leg-up in the competition. Aside from this, Lynda is exceptionally good at her job. Not only is she fluent in English, French, Mandarin, and Cantonese, but she also spent a year abroad living in France and a summer in China absorbing the culture and nuances of the languages.
It's always been Lynda's dream work here in the UN and it feels good to achieve what she set out for...even if it does mean dealing with her nerves and grueling, week-long conferences a few times a year like this one.
Lynda is first up in the booth, situated high above the action on the floor at the UN grand hall. She gets comfortable, chugs down a protein smoothie to ease her hunger pangs, and takes a bite of that European chocolate bar she snagged the last time she was in France. She's ready to roll.
Lynda's been told that her assignment this morning is to actually translate the French into Chinese for Ambassador Liu. Before it begins, she could swear the PM looks at her and gives her a little wink, as if to say, "Just wait, this is gonna be good."
The conference starts off with a bang as the PM speaks passionately about the growing problem of anti-Semitism in France and how he thinks they should act now and do something about it.
It's a four-minute speech and Lynda is mesmerized by each word. Or at least, she would be mesmerized if she had time to be. As she is translating for Ambassador Liu in real time, it's as if the words are coming straight from her own mouth. Lynda feels powerful and impassioned by the PM's plea for everyone to take action and fight the hatred that's growing in France.
When the speech is through, she can barely breathe. What a rush. After it's over, she's tapped out by Phil. He looks a little miffed that he missed out on such a big moment. She doesn't usually feel too competitive with him, but this felt strangely good.
Lynda goes outside to get some air and feels like she could collapse.
But she can't. She only has twenty minutes before she must gather herself and go back into the conference to continue.
It's powerful, interesting, and exhausting work, but nothing can rival that first speech that Lynda interpreted.
At the end of the day, Lynda says goodbye to Phil, who looks as beat as she is. He offers to buy her a celebratory drink but Lynda reminds him that they have to be back bright and early for day two of the conference.
She packs it in, heads home, and falls fast asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow. She dreams of making wonderful, powerful, great speeches herself someday that shake the nation.